With Insanity Comes Comfort and Hope
by fallingballs
Summary: John had been through some though times in the last 3-4 years, and has never been the same. Dave even moved into Washington to help him, but John pushed him away until they were strangers. Dave now tries to save their friendship, and if he can, get them together.
1. Chapter 1

_"Best friends are great therapists."-unknown_

An alarm plagued the bedroom of John Egbert, a student nearing college. He was in 11th grade, and frankly his life revolved around a rather depressing value. John felt air seep deep into his nose. He breathed deeply trying to catch down air as he lifted his head up with a jolt, stiff and sweating. His ears rang, and he stared down at his alarm clock, his eyes weary at the fact that he would face a new day.

John punched down on the button, and felt his stomach churn. But, he ignored it and focused on the slight sting of pain in his wrist from his weakness. He was very venerable, and he was well aware of this fact. He ignored that most of the time, though.

He hopped out of his bed as his toes curled from the cold concrete clawing at his feet. Washington was freezing, and having a good conductor for the cold in his home everywhere, wasn't so bright.

He ignored the cold sensation, and carried his exhausted body towards the

kitchen that once would contain two figures at the same time in this room, but now there was an absence. No one was ever here, not ever. It was only John, and the reason why was terrifying.

John pushed away the tears as he felt the absence of the two loveable figures, and poured himself some cereal and some juice, completely ignoring his faint sobs and his heart dropping like it does every single morning, and stuffed down his food. As usual, he wasn't hungry. But he always chugged down food anyways, just so he won't starve before lunch.

He normally would have cramps and would be desperate for food if he didn't, considering he is growing and all. But even so, he remained small and skinny, but that never bothered him nor came across his mind often.

When he finished stuffing food down his throat, tears still began swelling up, but he forced them back and wiped off the salt-like water on his sleeve. He ignored them like he did every day, and darted off towards the medicine cabinet. There was only one bottle of orange pills in there-and for only one purpose. They contained him, they were his ever-lasting cage. He knew one day though...just one day...he would break free of it's grasp, and not even on purpose.

John forced them down his throat along with a quick sip of water. He then turned to his car keys, and his backpack, and swung them over his shoulder and dashed himself out, and soon was in his car, driving towards school.

The drive was short, but still kinda of exhausting enough to make you not want to walk. About at least a mile. As he drove, kids around him began glaring at him with denying eyes. People didn't really bully him, but he wasn't really greeted for the most part.

But he never minded that, since he still had some friends. Most of which were online, but still he had some real life friends, but he never really talked to them. They were more or less people who he just sat next to, just to lower down the awkwardness in school.

He parked his car, and rushed inside. The smell of sweat and work filled the air, and the sound of lockers being slammed echoed in the halls, and soon his ears rang with annoyance. But he ignored it, and swiftly made his way towards his locker, which was on the bottom row a little bit away from the clutter of people.

People shoved him slightly, and small chuckles were heard as people passed by. He wasn't quite sure if they were directed at him, but he chose to not think so. He pushed his school supplies he didn't need for his first class into the locker, and abandoned it until it would be needed again. Sweet tore from his pores, even it was actually freezing in the hall. It might have been the nightmare, or the possible recent and past trauma of events that were making his eyes swell with tears much more often. He wasn't sure, but he was sweating when he brought himself up, and sprinted down into the mob of people waling their ways towards their classes. He collided with the mess of students, and rushed into his classroom.

He wasn't late, but he must have been close since the bell rung as soon as he sat down. "Great," he muttered under his faint breath, "I was almost late again." He felt his face sag down to a frown as his emotions within him leaned toward guilt and regret. His emotions always seemed to stagger between these and depression, but most of the time they landed on depression. But luckily, since this was a normal look for him, no one really stared at him. They all suspected he was a really glum kid, who had a tough life, and because of that no one wanted to get involved in his horror-filled life.

In fact, he thought they were _happy _he was miserable as of now. Really, they didn't care nor noticed, since they had no possible idea how to confront him or anything. From his looks, he was nothing but a sadist dork.

He looked at the clock, and examined around the room to see his teacher was not at her desk. She was gone, off somewhere in the hall not really caring about teaching the students as usual. She always seemed to be off in the hall, chatting it up with other fellow careless teachers. Because of this, the abandoned classrooms were usually chattered up with speech of the latest memes and gossip going around, and they usually were loud enough to hear from a few halls down.

But, today, it was more of whispers. A lot of whispers contained giggles in them, and a few stares towards certain people. A few times, he could of _swore _some stares were darted toward him. But he remained quiet, and continued drowning in his own thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved and throw a fit for a total mistake.

To ignore the faint whispers a bit more easily, he pushed some ear-buds into his ears, and began doodling in his spiral. The whispers faded into the abyss as his music took over his ear-drum, and soon the thrilling tunes struck him with inspiration. He doodled for a few minutes, but was interrupted by his teacher knocking on his desk, waiting for a reply.

He lifted his eyes up with a annoyed look, and saw a somewhat angry look on his teacher's face. She glared at him, her eyes telling him to take his headphones, and quit doodling. He swore he felt his face tweak a bit red, and pulled out his headphones when he saw his teacher's mouth move, but no words. "Are you deaf, young man?" A few giggles and smirks were transferred around the room.

"I've been telling you to put away your notebooks for god knows how long, and you keep ignoring me," she stated with a angered tone. Her eyebrows lowered, and her annoyed eyes were focused on John's embarrassed face. He stood still, paralyzed and unable to explain what really happened. He tried to open his mouth, but it felt like he had a crick in his jaw.

Her voice rose a bit louder. "John Egbert, explain yourself this instant! You are making us start class late!" John continued to be still, his lips trembling, almost as if they were sown shut. She spoke again, this time she was shouting. "JOHN EGBERT, IF YOU DO NOT EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, YOU'LL GET DETENTION!"  
John forced his jaw open, his lips still shaking, and slipped some words out. They were barely audible, but somehow his teacher understood every bit of what he said. It might have been because he always talks in a quiet voice. But this voice he blew out, it was more like a small exhale. Somehow, though, his teacher heard him loud and clear. "I just..was listening to music...and...I guess it was too loud..heh" were the exact words that huffed quickly and quietly from John's mouth. The teacher raised her eyebrow, and grunted low before she replied. "Bad idea to listen to music that loud, huh? Hand over your phone, and I'll see you after class!"

It almost seemed as if she was trying to shout loud enough for the whole school to hear, thus embarrassing him to a extreme point. He felt like pulling his hair out, stomping out the door, but instead, he sighed, and clenched his fists to his side and listened to the instructions his teacher announced.

The rest of the class had been him doing work, writing down homework for the night, and flipping through textbooks. As soon as the bell rung, he picked up his stuff, and flooded into the crowd of the exiting classroom, trying to dodge the teacher's conference. He bumped into the students, being squished and pushed, nearly making it, until a ear-shocking shout growled in his ears. "JOHN EGBERT! WHERE DO YOU THINK _YOUR_GOING?" John flinched, and paused with a odd looking expression on his face, showing worry and stress. He stopped dead in his tracks, allowing people to push and shove him.

He didn't even notice any of the shoves, that is, until one guy pushed him so hard he fell flat on his face. Right in the back, a hard push by one of the bigger kids in class. He wasn't sure if it was accidental, but he didn't care. The impact wasn't hard, and his wrist saved most of the damage that could have been his face. Just a small bruise, really.

John groaned, lifted up his head, and glared down at the teacher with a not-amused look. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes represented anger and pure hatred towards her. He clinched his fist, and slumped them on his sides. He tried to let the anger in this voice tone down, and make it sound soft and welcoming. "Sorry, I just..forgot, is all," but no matter the excuse, she gave him a unapproved stare, and handed him a slip.  
_  
Go to: Principal's Office  
When: After school  
Why: Playing on phone in class; not paying attention  
Student name/Grade:John Egbert, 11th grade  
Teacher's signature: Ms Braxton  
_

He stared down at the slip, sighing, and continued back towards his next class. "Thanks."

The day went on boring, and full of some kids poking at him here and there. But, it was now lunch; 5th period. Next period was 6th, which met some relation. His history teacher was usually asleep, so he had all the time he needed to goof off. For now, he knew it was a good time to go down the street and fetch some junk food.

_If I do go, I need to bring Dave. _John thought, staring back at the blonde haired kid, his shades hiding his true identity; his true self. John and Dave weren't really friends, hell, they never talked. But John mainly used him for protection; a shield against the the bullies. It used to be non-stop beatings for him, that is, until Dave took him in. Dave was popular, so John started to get a good treatment for just knowing the guy. He may have been fairly close with Dave, but it was apparently good enough to not get a sick beating. Now a punch to the face was rare, and if it did happen, Dave would have a talk with them.

Really, Dave was ok for John. John had no idea what Dave was into though, he just hanged around him. John would hover for protection, per say. But in reality, no matter how much lies John spat to make it seem like he and Dave were best friends that only hanged after school, he was really just a no-body to John. Dave was just another stranger.

Right now, John's real friends were Jade and Rose. They were online, sadly. For some reason, online comfort seemed better than real life friends to him. He wasn't sure why, but they were.

John glared down at Dave, and saw Dave walking down the hall towards the exit, relaxed and leaned back like the careless hooligan he was._ Always off in his own little world._John thought, glaring at him slightly. John jogged up tho his "friend" and let a smile gleam off his cheeks. "Hey there, Dave! Wanna go get some lunch with me?"

Dave glared at him, at least, John thought he did. He couldn't tell with those god awful shades. Either way, though, Dave shrugged, then nodded with a smile. "Sure, why not, Egderp?" That always slapped John right across the face. Egderp. Dave didn't even pronounce it RIGHT. That's how "close" they were. John at fist thought Dave was poking fun, but no, he seriously thought that was his last name.

As much as John wanted to lay out the heat on him for making such an idiotic mistake, he shrugged it off, and walked out the school doors with his "buddy", searching for some lunch. They walked around on the sidewalk, discussing some possible eating places, but then decided it would be best to just pick up some cheap tacos from Taco Bell. They paid, ate, and came right back about 5 minutes before next period.

"Thanks, John. I forgot how nerdy and funny you were," Dave said, ruffling the blue-eyed blue that was about levers inches shorter than him. John smiled back, and walked off to his separate class. By the end of the day, he was wiped up tired with a huge sack of books forced on his back.

He'd almost completely forgotten about his stupid visit to the principal's office until a loud announcement rang in the speakers of the hall. "Will mister Egbert please come down into the principal's office, thank you."

John shrugged out of his seat, an angry face plastered to his face, and walked into the office. He glared around the office, containing cheap seats, short and cliché desk, and posters meaning to lift your spirits up. He shrugged, completely pushing off the weight of being in a cheap-scented room, and headed toward the end of the hall the office had. There, only there, was the principal sitting there, glaring with denying eyes, while other students sat around her. Under her old and wrinkled claws, John swore he saw his phone. He had more than half a mind to go up there and scoop it up, then rush outside and forget that he was supposed to go to detention. Instead, he resisted the urge to grab it.

He walked inside her small room, and sat down in a seat next to one of the normal trouble makers. Her unwelcoming glare loosened up a bit, making John feel more a bit more welcomed, and not like he was in a prison. He stared under her palm, and saw his blue phone case, slightly lifted by the phone it covered. It was his phone, sitting there under her sweaty and disgusting hands. He swallowed, and continued staring down at her wrinkled cheeks, and old hazy eyes. All his anger toward her, and fears, went down with the huge swallow he took. He now stared emotionless at her; frozen in time, unable to let out words that may get him back home.

"John...John! John are you there?" John glared at her moving lips, and just now realized words were coming out of them. He must of spaced out to a weird point. He nodded in reply, then placed his hand on his forehead for cradling his sore head. "Sorry. I guess I spaced out."

"Ok...Well, why are you here?" John paused, took a deep breath, and searched through his pocket for a few minutes, and soon pulled out a crumbled up green slip. He sighed, and handed it to the judging figure in front of him. She glared at it for a few seconds, taking in all the information and thinking of a possible punishment.

John was waiting to get a good, loud, speech about how playing on electronics is one of the worst things you could possibly do in class, but instead she handed back the crumbled slip. Her hands touched John's shoulder, and then suddenly were pressed against his face, and pulled his head up. His eyes were now glued to her, and they contained a warm and welcoming feeling. In fact, no anger at all was detected.

"John, I really don't see why you should get detention for this. I mean, eh, it's not that bad. So here, take your phone, and get outta here so I can handle these other kids."

a smile perked on her wrinkled cheeks, and her yellow soaked teeth sparkled with warmth. And with that, John picked himself up to his feet, and zoomed out the door. He tried to process what just happened as he slunk around in the hallway, heading toward his car.

But he pushed the thought aside, and drove home to be greeted by the same teary-eyed feeling he got every time he entered his empty home.

Dave was already home, slapping down his supplies on the floor and scooping up a bag of junk food. He sat on his black couch, that was rather squared-shaped, and sighed as he stared down at his flat-screen TV. Dirk wasn't home yet, as usual. Dirk was never home. In fact, the only time he really was, was maybe around 5 AM.

Dave thought about John, the one he always tried to hang out with often, and stared down at the horrible and shitty looking TV show on the wired screen._ I don't know why John can't see I protect him for a reason. Popular kids don't go to the unpopular ones and protect them for no reason..._Dave thought, staring down at the carpet. He knew about John for as long as he can remember. Hell, he even talked to him on Pesterchum sometimes, and moved to Washington just to help him and be with him. But too bad John couldn't tell it was him. In fact, even online they never talked. John always made up excuses to leave, so Dave ended up having to make new accounts to talk to him.

He always had to pretend to be someone else. That's why he moved to Washington. He prays everyday that he can just get close to John. They used to be pretty close when they were 13, they chatted online everyday, and always tried to comfort each other and joke around. But then, things just stopped being fun. John just left. He was never the same, and Dave just wants to find out why.


	2. Chapter 2

Dave wakes up to the sound of an alarm in his room, and is destined to reel in John the second he awakes. It had been a week since he actually hanged out with him at Taco Bell, and that still wasn't enough for him. He is sick of being a loner, a nobody to the one he loves. He's been pushing his way toward John for years, but for some reason, he is repelled. Almost as if John wants him dead. But something tells Dave that's a lie, and that John cares. John is just hiding something. That had to be the truth.

It was now Saturday, and Dave had a chance to connect with John. It was around the hour of noon, and the sun dried up the window, and brought some light into the room, but still, the Washington air held a freezing grip around Dave's home. Dave pounded his feet onto the floor, and dragged himself towards his laptop, which was seated on his desk. He opens it, and to his surprise, John is online for the first time in 2 weeks. This was his chance.

- _**turntechGodhead**_[_**TG**_] began pestering _**ectoBiologist**_[_**EB**_] –

TG: hey john

TG: its been a while yo

TG: hows it going down at the john party

EB: ugh, not now.

TG: why not

TG: you never come on and when you do you end up ditching me

TG: whats wrong

EB: shut up.

EB: you wouldn't care anyway.

TG: yeah i would

EB: look, i'm only on to talk to jade and rose, not you.

TG: why not me

TG: what did I do

EB: everything.

EB: go away.

TG: i know your hiding something dude

TG: i can read your text loud and clear

TG: your almost hollering it to my face

TG: man youre bad at lying

TG: you need to stop hiding it

TG: fucking tell me whats going on

TG: please

EB: y'know what?

EB: how about you get the fuck out?

EB: im never going to tell you.

EB: why should I tell you anyway?

EB: you dont even know how to pronounce my last name right!

TG: what the shit are you talking about

TG: its almost as if you laid out the insanity is coming to town card right there

TG: of course i know your last name

EB: then why do you always say "egDERP" instead of "egBERT"?

TG: i was just poking fun at you

TG: geez

TG: moody today arent we

EB: idc

EB: its my life, not yours.

EB: so gtfo.

TG: ok asshole

TG: i fucking moved to washington JUST to be with you

TG: just to help you

TG: because ever since you turned 13

TG: i knew something was wrong

TG: i want the john I fell in love with back

-_**ectoBiologist**_[_**EB**_] ceased pestering _**turntechGodhead**_[_**TG**_]-

-_**ectoBiologist**_[_**EB**_] changed their mood to OFFLINE-

_iOf course./i _Dave thought, his eyes focused on the blue text. His heart felt weary and unstable now. It was pounding to the core—the blood it was producing was nothing but the pure stench of failure, and depression. John never told him anything; in fact, every time Dave tried to squeeze a bit of information out of him—John swiped Dave with a horrible stinging scar. It stung like the unwelcoming feeling in his heart.

Dave felt like John was right—that he was the problem, and that he should just disappear and move back to his home. John didn't need his comfort; he needed him gone. John didn't love him like Dave did. John hated him. At least, that's what Dave thought.

Dave spent the next hour going over the conversation, his mind set on finding any possible clue of what was going on in the blue text. Nothing, as far as Dave could see. All he saw were words directed to hurt Dave. That's all he could ever see in John's words now. He even forgot what John's kind words looked like. But, even so, Dave still loved John—because he knew that John really did like him.

...Or did he?

"Why did I go offline," John huffed, tears patting down his keyboard. "I screwed up again." John's hands shook, and his face was stained with red. He wanted to tell Dave, oh man did he ever. He wanted to tell him the stress he was going through and his mental break down issues, but he couldn't. Dave did care, he knew this, but Dave wouldn't believe him. He wouldn't think John was weaving a thread of truth—he would only think that John spoke such foolish lies to catch attention. But, in reality, he was facing insanity to a whole new level. He goes crazy every night, crying himself to sleep while staring at the blade.

A rope nearly holds him up every week. He is so stressed—so fearful. Ever since the incident involving the loss of his loved ones, he's been hanging over a thread. His medication may be keeping that thread's structure alive—but it could break any second now. He could break whenever he wanted to..

John grips his hands into a firm fist, and glares at the screen while his red-painted cheeks get drained away by the tears. His vision blurs, and thoughts of the loss of his mother and father fill his mind. After he lost them, abuse and horrors were the only things left for him in return.

The scattering of blood, and the organs being splashed onto his face while the killer forced him to eat the remains of his loved ones. John hadn't been the same since. Dave knew something was up—Dave knew he was breaking. The last structure of sanity was crumbling under John's feet, and Dave could hear the small mumbles for help—but he was always was pushed back when he tried to help.

Just the thought that Dave could find out John's true past made shivers crawl down John's body. His eyes dropped down; he couldn't stand to see the red text anymore. The boy was a stranger to him—but yet, John felt a strange urge toward him, but refused to fulfill that urge. The longer this urge was rejected—the harder it was for John to talk to the man who was investigating the crime scene.

His magnify-glass was all over John. Dave wanted truth; no lies. But, no matter how much he zoomed in on the small facts, he could never get a glimpse of the real issue.

Two sweaty palms approached a blue-eyed face, which was pail to the bone. Liquid emerged in the hands, and streamed down his neck. He hurt someone again; just like that night. He hurt someone he felt complete around. How could he do this?

His heart grew into a faster pace; and his forehead was drenched in sweat as he swallowed down the monster emerging within him. He knew it was crawling up his bones, and was aiming to clutch the last thread of his sanity.

A few words came out with a breath—barely even words, in fact. Mainly air exhaled from the boy. "I quit."

Dave slipped under his covers after a long day of thinking and regretting mistakes. The heat from the factory-made soft blanket comforted him. He would accept any kind of comfort at this point. He was desperate. His glasses flopped off his face quickly once he curled into a ball. He didn't even care about them, though. All he cared about were the tears emerging from his eyes. It was ever so rare that he broke into an emotional break-down, but when it did happen, no one ever knew.

His jeans rubbed against his cheeks that were somewhat wet, and thoughts of the past with John sprung into his mind. He dearly missed those moments more than anyone could imagine. He wanted to be best friends with him again, but no matter how hard he tried, he was rejected with a sharp slice into the heart.

He continued to think about the pain John brought him. He wept more, only thinking about how many times he's knocked to see if would be rejected or accepted—but only getting a door to the face. Anger is all Dave sees in John's eyes when he approaches him. Dave knew John wanted his horrid secrets to himself; but Dave wouldn't allow such a stupid mistake. John couldn't do this.

Suddenly, his eyes became wide open, and his body jolted into a standing formation. He knew what he had to do.

He picked up his shades, and placed them on his desk. He wouldn't be needing those things. All he needed to do was drive straight toward John's house, and give him more comfort than he could ever ask for. Laying down and feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help the situation any better.

This had to be the only solution.


	3. Chapter 3

Dave didn't care about his sloppy clothes and how damp they were-or anything involving him at the moment. He only needed to approach the boy he loved ever so dearly, and strand him away from the mess of insanity he's living in. He doesn't know what happened to him-and Dave probably never will, but the least Dave could do is help him get over whatever happened to him 4 years ago.

Dave poorly runs to his car, his hands glued to the steering wheel as soon as he touches the rubber. His brain is nearly completely off; and he's drenched in worry and regret. He's sweating out tears and is a total wreck of stress at this point-but he keeps going. He's driving at 90 miles per hour in a school zone, not having a single care about the law.

The red coat of paint on his car is swimming in dust and is being completely torn and chipped. He doesn't care. There are people flipping him off as he passes by. He doesn't care. He's racing to help someone he truly cares about. Nothing can stop him.

His body sags down while the wind tries to pull him downward-but he drives until his heart is nearly exploding with adrenaline. He is not going to be chained down; nor distracted. His face is rumbling with the force of wind, and his eyes are tearing up. But he still drives in the perfect direction at a fast pace.

He's there in no time.

His hair is bonded in knots as soon as he stops in front of a house with very few plant life around the rim of it-unlike the other houses. The other houses are sprayed with lovely flowers and plastic decor. Well groomed grass and perfectly molded fences all around, yet there in the middle of the beauty is a poorly taken care of rug of dirt in the road.

John has never been a plant person. Dave had never seen him plant a single thing in his entire 3 years of being here-and John has never mentioned plants to Dave. But Dave didn't think it would be this bad. Dave figured that he just didn't care; but it's only now he realized John's house is a dump since he lost the will to pretty much do anything. He is an empty shell.

As he approached the door his stomach was tied in the worst knot imaginable. His body was shaking-and he felt puke emerge from his throat. So many different feelings overtook him at this very moment, and he wasn't sure how he felt. But he did know he felt sick to his stomach; as if someone had beat him up inside and out.

Mental and physical pain consumed him-and nearly smothered him by the time his finger was hovering right above the doorbell. The small plastic rectangle that left a ringing alarm in the boy's house was only seconds away from being pushed.

He was starting to rethink this. John would hurt him again. He would curl in a ball yet again and cry for hours on end and lie to himself about how John loves him. He couldn't put others before himself if it meant he would be broken and hurt.

As Dave thought over it, he found himself slightly tearing up again. Though, even in the state he was in, he gripped his fist, and pounded the door bell. He had to do this.

Dave's heart is in his throat now, and he's nearly fainting from fear. He's scared to see the boy approach him and cuss him out. He knows what the outcome of this will be, but he keeps going in hopes it just may be different. He gulps in his fear, and tells himself to suck it up. He had no excuse. This is what Dave had to do. No matter the outcome, he would talk Jon outta of it sooner or later.

He stands there-each second ticking away his tolerance and patience. He is so determined to help John, yet is so scared. _What if it all goes wrong?_ He thinks staring at the door continuing to breath just barely. His eyes flicker, looking for a hint of hope that he may be accepted by the boy he loves. John was a nice guy, right? John would never ever tear him down! He glares at his shoes as soon as he hears the rumbling of objects beyond the wooden structure keeping him away from entering the house. He hears talking, and slight complaining. This makes his body nearly shut down-and his ears perk. His heart beats like a thunder storm, but he still stands still trying to keep a peaceful face on him.

He wishes he brought his shades with him.

He bites his lip, and soon the door creaks open, and his blonde hair is so tangled up to the point where when John sees him, all he can do is stare in awe at his current structure. John's Ghost Buster shoes are the only thing Dave stares at for comfort—trying to remember happier times for the two of them. His eyes water at the sight of those big fluffy slippers, and all Dave does is pause—and not even care about the tears pouring down. There is no reason why he should keep holding this in.

He begins to shiver and fall to his knees; covered in snot from the crying and an endless pit of unsaid words. "John...Please...I'm sorry," he pauses to wipe off some tears and gather himself up. "I don't know what I did to make you leave me, but I know it's bad. I don't deserve you. Please, just give me one more chance...I won't fuck up...," He begins to huff, and he can't even see now because his eyes are clouded by tears.

He can feel john twitching—he can feel John's hatred. John is in awe. He is in awe on how pathetic Dave is—at least that's what Dave believes.

All Dave can hear now is John mutter words that only John himself can hear. John was trying to figure out everything going on; he didn't expect his actions to lead to this horrific scene.

But even if Dave sat there in pain, he was still able to creek his head up slightly to see what John's reaction was. John only drowned himself in tears—and had the most disappointed look anyone could ever witness upon him. What horrors this brought for Dave. Dave now drank up all his misery, and crawled on the floor. The concrete's cold sensation crawled up his thighs, and his breath stuttered in fear.

A hand bumped itself onto his shoulder...John...


	4. HERES SOME NEW GUYS PLS READ!

ok so lemme lay this on yall i actually quit this fic and re-wrote it and better yet i dont even use this gay ass site anymore check me out me archiveofourown instead because this site LIMITS WRITING AND THATS NOT COOL bye


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